License To Lie
by Penelope Louise
Summary: Myka and Pete have to go undercover due to the nature of the artifact they are trying to recover. Myka is not happy at her undercover persona. PeteMyka.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: My first Warehouse 13 fic! I can't believe it's taken me so long. I am appalled at myself. Hehe. Anyhow, I created the first Warehouse 13 community! Check it out ;) Enjoy!**_

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"You've got to be kidding me, Artie." Myka Bering glared at Artie as she leaned back in her chair and grumpily threw her file back onto the table.

"It's only for a week or so." Artie answered, trying to look innocent. It didn't work, and he leaned away from the angry glares being projected at him by Myka.

They both looked up when the door opened.

"Well, nice of you to join us." Myka snapped irritatedly. Pete Lattimer walked into the room and sat down on the chair next to Myka. His hair was still damp from his shower and his shirt stuck slightly to his chest. He missed the appreciative once over Myka gave him. Artie, meanwhile, didn't.

"What did I miss?" Pete asked Artie, who handed him a file. Pete opened the cover and scanned the contents of the first page. A smirk spread across his features, and he chuckled. Closing the file, he turned to Myka. "Now **this **is why you're so grumpy!"

"I'm not grumpy!" She denied the accusation, and he laughed.

"Yeah, and I'm Shakespeare." Pete smiled sweetly at Myka, who picked up a pen and through it at him. It glanced off of his cheek and landed on the table. Pete looked put out and rubbed his cheek.

"Talking about Shakespeare, his quill is over in Aisle 725-Y, but back to what's in your files…" Artie smiled at them. Pete smirked and Myka glared at him.

"Why can't we just go in as ourselves?" Myka complained.

"You know why. Because of the nature of what the artefact does…" Artie shrugged.

"Ha!" Pete guffawed. "Me and Myka!"

Myka hit him in the arm. Hard. "Ow!" Pete complained, giving her a pained look. "Quit it." She narrowed her eyes at him, daring him to say something else. Needless to say, he did. After all, Pete was, well, Pete.

"But… married!" He burst into fresh peals of laughter, only punctuated by the occasional 'ow!' when Myka's fist, elbow, knee or foot came into contact with various parts of his body.

"Hey, come on." Artie suppressed the urge to grin at their antics. "Your flight leaves in an hour. Get packing."

Myka jumped up and was already walking up the stairs when Pete caught her wrist. She turned and looked at him. "What?"

"Wait up a minute." He said, wondering if whether he was _really _that bad.

"Why?" Myka raised an eyebrow.

"You can't just run away from this, we have to do it. Don't blame me!" Pete told her, and then added: "Blame Artie. His idea."

Myka eyed him warily, before turning and disappearing up the stairs and into her room. Pete rolled his eyes in despair. He was just opening the door to his own room when he heard Leena.

"Don't worry. She's not really angry." When he turned to look at her and reply, she had already gone. Shaking his head, he pushed open his door, and began to pack for the week ahead.

Two hours later, Agent Lattimer and Agent Bering boarded the plane to the Lester B Pearson International Airport. Myka seated herself next to the window in Aisle 7, and handed Pete her bag to go in the overhead locker with a smile.

"Would you mind?" She asked, and Pete glared at her.

"Not at all, _honey._" He slammed the overhead closed and sat down next to her. "Honestly, why Canada?"

"Is there a problem with Canada?" Myka asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, yes. It's full of Canadians." Pete pointed out.

"A valid point, only I find the same problem with America and Americans." A strongly Canadian voice said from behind them. Pete turned and smiled.

"Pete. Pete Lattimer. This is my _wife, _Myka… Lattimer." Myka smiled at the woman, masking her annoyance with Artie at making them supposedly married. She would **kill **him when she got back. Pete had already pointed out that she was mad at Artie. Apparently it was because her head was tilted to the right.

"Nice to meet you! My name is Alana Carracci." A woman of about thirty four smiled at them. "I'm flying home."

"Where are you from?" Myka asked interestedly.

"Mississauga." Alana replied. Myka feigned surprise.

"Oh really? That's where we're going too! We're staying there for a week or two. Get away from work a little bit." Myka chuckled. "Pete just works too hard."

"What work do you do?" Alana asked Pete, not noticing the sarcasm in Myka's voice. Pete, however, noticed.

"I'm an accountant." Pete inwardly winced at the job that Artie had decided for a cover. Myka suppressed a smirk. "Myka here is a French teacher."

"Oh! Bonjour mon ami." Alana grinned and Myka smiled back, trying to ignore the really bad fake French accent, as well as the obviously dyed peroxide blonde hair. Meanwhile, Pete was attempting to ignore the great view he had down Myka's cleavage, and failing miserably.

"Excuse me?" The voice of one of an air hostess broke into their conversation. Pete and Myka looked at her. "If you could please buckle your seatbelts and be ready for take off."

"Sure." Pete smiled at the attractive woman. Myka glared at the back of Pete's head and elbowed him. "Ow!"

She smiled innocently. "Is there a problem?"

"Too right." Pete answered, wondering how she could manage that irritating 'I'm innocent' look. It was annoying. Major time.

Half an hour later, Pete was reading one of Myka's books, a law novel called "The Appeal." To his surprise, it wasn't that bad. Myka was asleep, her head resting on Pete's shoulder.

She hadn't got much sleep the night before. He had been woken up by the sound of someone crying. He guessed she'd had a nightmare or something, but when he knocked on her door, there had been no answer. He'd pushed it open slightly, but it looked like she'd fallen asleep again. He was pretty sure she'd been faking it, but he hadn't pressed the matter.

Soon they were kicked off the plane into Chicago, and pushed onto their connecting flight.

"I hate stopovers." Myka informed Pete, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Agreed." Pete sighed as they waited for the fat man in front of them to walk up the metal stairs to the plane just a little bit faster. Pete mimed 'move it' gestures with his hands, and Myka bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. She punched him lightly in the arm.

"Behave yourself." She admonished, and he looked taken aback.

"Moi?"

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A/N: Ah, the joys of Pete being, well, Pete. I hope you enjoyed it. Feedback, please?**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Thanks for your great reviews for the last chapter! I hope you enjoy this one!**_

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After picking up a rental car, Pete drove them to their hotel in Mississauga. On the way there, Myka read out the details they had on the mission.

"So, Artie thinks it's something to do with the police. So, that's why we're stuck undercover." She reasoned, and Pete glanced at her.

"Stuck?" He asked, and she smiled at him.

"Well, it's not like I would willingly be married to you." She reminded him, and he laughed it off. Even though he knew she was joking around, it still hurt. It stuck like the barb of a poison arrow in the heart. Or like it had felt when she had used the Tesla on him. I.e. painful.

"Am I really that bad?" He asked, for once being serious. She looked at him. She would never admit it, but Pete Lattimer intrigued her. For all his faults, his was a good person. Likeable. He could be very hard to read sometimes, but other times you could read him like a book. Myka had first thought about reading Pete as "a short read, not much description" but after spending more time with him, she was beginning to learn that this might not be the case after all.

"Not all the time." She conceded, smiling as she turned her head away to look out at the road. It was dark, as it generally is at one in the morning.

"How much of the time?" Pete pressed her for details. At first he had considered Myka to be irritating and a suck up to higher authority. But, as he had found out, she wasn't so bad after all. She was a geek, admittedly, but everyone has their faults, he told himself. She was attractive as well. A good kisser. He'd certainly discovered that. She was a kick-ass fighter. He still had bruises.

But more than that. He didn't know what it was about Myka.

It was something he just couldn't quite pin-point. He wanted her to like him, but he was pretty sure she wasn't interested in him.

"Oh, about half." Myka grinned at him, and he chuckled. "What about me?"

"Oh, you can be a pain in the ass too." Pete told her, and she narrowed her eyes. Laughing, he continued: "You do come in useful though."

"Oh, gee, thanks." She said sarcastically. He chuckled softly, and then everything became silent once again.

Soon they arrived at the hotel they would be staying at. "The Moonraker" was a small bed and breakfast deal in the middle of town, so they'd be right in play to watch all the action.

Or so they hoped.

Pete opened his car door and jumped down. Opening the trunk, he pulled out both his and Myka's suitcases, before slamming it closed. He followed Myka through the front door.

"You must be Mr and Mrs Lattimer?" The man at the front desk questioned them.

"We are." Myka replied. The man was about forty, or there abouts. He looked like he'd been in the armed forces, Myka noted, as he was well muscled and his hair was cut in the right sort of style. Either that or he thought he looked cool.

"I'll show you to your room." The man smiled at them, and took one of the suitcases from Pete, before walking up the stairs. After climbing two flights, he walked about six meters down the hallway and took a key out from his pocket. He unlocked the door, and pushed it open. Gesturing for them to go in, he removed the key from the door and handed it to Pete as he passed. Walking in after them, he set the suitcase, which was Pete's, down on the ground.

Pete looked around the room, silently cursing and thanking Artie at the fact that there was only a double bed.

"Breakfast will be served between seven and nine, although since you arrived so late, I can make arrangements if you want to eat later." The man informed them.

"Oh, no thank you, we'll be fine." Myka smiled at him, wanting to get rid of him quickly.

"Okay. I'm the owner of the hotel, so if there are any problems talk to me. If I'm not on the front desk, just ask to speak to Jefferson." He smiled at them, before walking out and closing the door behind him.

"Not bad." Myka conceded, looking around the room. It wasn't huge, but it wasn't a box room either. She could deal with this. Even the double bed. Not that she'd ever mention it to Pete, but she wasn't bothered at all by the sleeping arrangements.

"Do you want me to sleep on the couch?" Pete offered, thinking that she wasn't happy because of the double bed.

"Pete, it's fine. You must be tired, I swear you haven't slept. Anyhow, it's not the best time to sort out sleeping arrangements. I can bear with it for tonight." She grinned, and Pete was relieved to see that she was just joking about.

"Good, good." He smiled at her, before kneeling down and unzipping his suitcase. He searched through until he found a white t-shirt and gray sweatpants to sleep in. He dug around and found the bag containing his toothbrush and other essential hygienic products. He stood up and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Myka pulled out her night wear and quickly changed while Pete was in the bathroom. When he walked back out again, she was wearing navy blue pajama pants and a light blue tank top. He could also see that she wasn't wearing a bra.

Averting his gaze, he smiled at her. "All yours." He said, gesturing to the bathroom with a sweeping move of his arms. She laughed, and headed inside.

When she opened the door again, Pete was already in bed. He looked tired, since he hadn't slept at all since when they left South Dakota. Myka slipped under the covers and looked at him. She leant forward and kissed his cheek.

"Good night, Pete." She said quietly. She closed her eyes, and was soon fast asleep.

She didn't see Pete smile or hear him whisper, "Good night, Myka."

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A/N: I wanted it to be longer, but I thought that it would be a nice closure to end it there. **_

_**Please leave some feedback!**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: Wow! Thanks for your great reviews on the last chapter!**_

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Myka woke up to sunlight streaming in through the window. They hadn't drawn the curtains the night before, and the sun was shining through. She yawned and glanced at the clock on the wall. It was eight in the morning.

Somehow in the night, her head had ended up on Pete's chest, and his arm around her waist. She smiled at his sleeping face. He looked cute when he slept.

She slid out from under the covers and padded into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Pete awoke to the sound of the shower, and an empty space next to him. Yawning widely, he sat up, rubbing his eyes. He glanced at the clock. Quarter past eight. Much too early, in his opinion. He stood up and walked over to his open suitcase, and pulled out a pair of jeans, a gray t-shirt and a black and gray Alpine Stars B2 Bomber hooded top.

He was just zipping up his jeans when the sound of the shower cut off. A few seconds later and the door opened to reveal Myka in a towel.

"Morning." She smiled at him, and he grinned back.

"Morning to you, too." Myka eyed his bare chest with a small smirk on her lips. She would never admit it, but Pete Lattimer was _hot. _

Myka walked over to her own suitcase and pulled out a pair of suit pants and a dark blue shirt.

"Oh, come on." Pete said, and she turned and looked at him curiously. "Don't you have any… casual clothes?"

Myka rolled her eyes, and pulled out a pair of black jeans and a cute Animal ABC t-shirt. "Better?"

"Much." Pete grinned. Even though it had been Alice, he still couldn't get the image of Myka in a short, tight black dress out of his head. Myka chuckled, before grabbing her hairbrush and heading back into the bathroom.

Pete pulled on his t-shirt, still grinning.

An hour later, they had eaten breakfast and were exiting the hotel to go scout around the town. Myka was wearing a black trench coat, to combat the cold and also to cover the holster on her belt which was holding her .45 Sigsauer P220. Pete preferred his 9mm P239 with its smaller calibre, although they both conceded that 'Glock-wise' – as Pete put it – the G23C .40 was the best. And, talking about the G23C, Myka was wearing one in an ankle holster on her right leg. Pete only had his Sig P239 in an invisible holster under his t-shirt.

As they walked out into the cool air, Pete offered his arm to Myka, and she slipped her arm through his.

"So, it's some kind or artefact that messes with people's minds to make them try and beat the person who last spoke to them to death, right?" Pete checked his knowledge with Myka and she nodded.

"And Artie thinks it's some sort of police thing, seeing as all the 'victims' have been admitted to the mental ward at the local hospital, and they've all been talking about "the police" and "authorities" and that sort of thing." Myka added. "Shall we go to the hospital?"

"Sounds like a good idea." Pete agreed, and they headed off towards Credit Valley Hospital.

When they arrived, Myka walked up to the front desk. "Hi." She smiled sweetly at the receptionist.

"Good morning." The woman said in a monotone, without looking up.

"We're here to see Lisa Carracci." Pete said, leaning on the desk and giving her a dazzling smile. Lisa Carracci was the sister of Alana Carracci, the woman they'd met on the plane.

"Family?" The woman asked.

"Yes." Myka interrupted whatever Pete was going to say.

"Floor three, room 352." The woman still hadn't looked up when they walked off.

"We're family?" Pete said pointedly, and Myka shrugged.

"We're licensed to lie." She grinned, and he chuckled as he pressed the button for the lift.

For some reason, Myka seemed to be a lot less uptight and by-the-book when she wasn't wearing a suit. Pete had no idea why, but it was his plan to keep her away from the suits while they were in Mississauga. After all, they were undercover.

The lift doors '_dinged' _and opened. They stepped out into the relative quiet of the mental ward, only punctuated by the occasional scream or cry. Myka shivered, and was thankful for the familiar touch of Pete's hand resting lightly on her shoulder as if he sensed her discomfort. They approached the desk, where a lanky man with black glasses was typing something on a computer. He looked up at their approach.

"Good morning." He greeted them with a smile.

"We're here to see Lisa Carracci. Room 352, I think." Pete informed the man, who nodded.

"Right this way." They followed him along the corridors which stank of disinfectant and cleanliness. "I warn you, she's in a bad condition."

He knocked on the door before pushing it open. Lisa Carracci was a pretty woman of about twenty seven, with raven black hair. Compared to her sister in law, she was exceptionally pretty, as she had kept her natural looks. Her family, as well as her husband's, was of Italian descent, and it was obvious in Lisa. Her arms and legs were cuffed to the sides of the bed, probably to stop her hurting herself or others.

"You are…?" The doctor asked them.

"Myka and Pete Lattimer." Myka smiled at the warm, friendly doctor.

"Good morning, Lisa. Myka and Pete are here to see you." He spoke to the woman, who looked like she was sleeping, and then turned to Pete and Myka. "Be prepared, she has sudden outbursts. If you need me, I'll be outside."

Myka glanced at Pete, who shrugged slightly. Myka moved so that she was standing next to the bed. Once the door clicked close, she began.

"Lisa, my name is Myka. I want to ask you a few questions." Lisa opened her eyes slightly and looked up at Myka. The woman made a sort of sighing sound and her eyes rolled. "Do you remember trying to beat your husband to death?"

Lisa made a sound that sounded like a sort of strangled cry. She began to try and pull at her restraints, with no success.

"Lisa?" Myka hurriedly stepped backward when Lisa started screaming, an ear splitting shriek that resonated off of the walls. Myka would have fallen over if Pete hadn't caught her from behind. She quickly moved away from him, with a muttered: "Thanks."

The door opened, and the doctor rushed in, with a needle at the ready. He pushed it into Lisa's arm and injected her with a strong sedative. Eventually her thrashing stopped and her eyes closed. Soon, her breathing was even.

"I'm sorry about that." The doctor apologized, and Myka shook her head.

"Can… can we speak with Mr Carracci?" She asked, and he nodded.

"I'll look up the ward for you. I think he's in intensive care." The doctor led them away from Lisa, closing the door behind them. Five minutes later, armed with the ward number, they arrived back down on the ground floor. Pete began to walk down the corridor to the right, until Myka caught his arm and dragged him the other way, pointing out the fact that there were ward numbers on the walls.

It was loud and busy, compared to the quiet loneliness of the mental ward. They soon found the correct ward, and headed in. There were only two beds. One was obviously Antonio Carracci, since the man in the other bed looked about ninety-five.

"Antonio Carracci?" Antonio looked up from the book that he'd been reading. His face was covered with bruises, and his nose was bandaged. His left arm was in a sling and he had two black eyes.

"Yes?" he looked at them, interested.

"We have a few questions for you." Pete said. "It's about your wife."

Antonio glared at them. "No, she isn't crazy. No, she's not on drugs. No, she's not an alcoholic. Okay?"

"I was actually going to ask whether she had come in contact with anyone just before she attacked you." Pete shrugged, and Antonio sighed.

"I am sorry." He glanced down, before looking back up. "I think I remember the doorbell ringing, but I didn't really hear. I was in the shower."

"Thank you…" Pete considered it for a moment and was about to ask something else when a high pitched squeal erupted from behind them.

"Oh! You're Mr and Mrs Lattimer! I know you!" Pete and Myka turned around slowly to come face to face with Alana Carracci. Pete grimaced and Myka inwardly groaned.

How would they explain this?

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A/N: I hope that was alright!! Please leave some feedback. Even if you didn't like it, please tell me!**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: I am SO sorry I haven't updated! **__**I**__**'**__**ve been über busy with homework and other school stuff! I**__**'**__**m sorry I left it on a cliffhanger! *headdesk* this chapter is dedicated to tromana who helped me get over my writer**__**'**__**s block!**_

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Pete froze. "Alana… hello." He glanced over at Myka. What could they say? What could their explanation be? Luckily, Myka – always the quick thinker – saved them.

"You told us that your brother was in hospital, and we thought it would be nice of us to visit him as well," Myka explained, with a compassionate and pitying expression. To her relief, Alana drank it right up, even though she hadn't even mentioned to them that she had a brother, let alone that he was in hospital.

"Oh, that's so sweet of y'all!" she gushed, and Myka inwardly winced, keeping a sweet smile plastered on her face.

"We were just leaving… places to go, people to see…" Pete tried to hint that they wanted to leave, but Alana wasn't the type to get hints, even if they lacked as much subtlety as that one.

"Oh, can't you stay?" she asked, and Pete shook his head, pretending to look really upset.

"No, we've just gotta get going. Come on Myka, honey." Pete took Myka's hand and practically dragged her out of the ward.

Once they were out in the cool air outside, Pete sighed. "That was close."

"Too right." Myka took her hand from Pete's, but then link her arm through his. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" Pete asked as they walked along the sidewalk.

"To a restaurant," Myka replied, and Pete grinned.

"Awesome." Myka refrained from mentioning that they were going on 'business matters', not just to eat. She'd burst Pete's bubble when they got there.

Pete pushed open the door of 'Elfie's Restaurante' and gestured for Myka to go on through. "And they said chivalry was dead," she commented, and Pete slid his arm around her waist. She whispered in his ear, "what a gentleman."

Pete ignored the shiver going up his spine at the tone of her voice, and tried to forget the fact that he would be sleeping in the same bedroom… and bed as Myka that night.

_Damn it Pete, pull yourself together, she doesn't feel like that about you! You and your stupid fantasies, get it together!_

A smiling woman walked up to them. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"A table for two," Pete requested politely, and she nodded.

"Please follow me."

They followed her to a small table, and Pete was about to sit down when Myka spoke. "Can we have somewhere a little more… private?" Myka asked the waitress, who smiled knowingly and they followed her towards a booth near the back of the restaurant. Myka smiled. "Thank you."

_Myka! That couldn't have sounded anymore dirtier, could it? Honestly._

The waitress handed them two menus. "I'll be back for your drinks order in a minute."

Pete glanced at Myka. "Someplace more private?" he teased her and she gave him a sultry smile.

"Well, we don't want to be overheard talking about the Warehouse, do we?" she said innocently, as if no dirty thoughts had crossed through her head when she had requested somewhere more private. With Pete.

"Of course not." Pete felt slightly hurt that that was the only reason why she had said 'somewhere private.' Myka opened the menu and flicked through.

"Ugh." She made a face, and Pete chuckled.

"Problem?" he asked and she grimaced.

"Fast food," she wrinkled up her nose and Pete laughed.

"You picked the restaurant," he reminded her.

"That's because –" Myka was interrupted by the waitress.

"Can I take your drink order?" she asked sweetly and Myka looked at the drinks menu. She really needed caffeine, but she didn't want coffee. Coke had sugar in and she didn't eat sugar. Or drink it, either. _Oh, who cares?_

"Diet Coke please," she requested, stressing the _diet _word. The waitress wrote it down and glanced at Pete, smiling at him flirtatiously. Pete didn't miss the way Myka's eyes hardened and the glare she directed at the waitress. Was Myka… jealous?

"I'll have the same," he answered and put his arm around Myka possessively, making sure it was obvious. The waitress frowned, and walked away.

"What was that for?" Myka asked, noticing that Pete didn't move his arm away when the waitress left the booth.

"I can't have you getting… jealous," he teased her, and she narrowed her eyes.

"I was not jealous!" she retorted.

"Were too," Pete replied.

"Was not!" she denied the accusation again and looked up when the door opened with a tinkling of the little bell. "Shit! Pete, get down!"

She pushed Pete so that he wasn't looking at the newcomer. She was hit in the face with the force of the artefact as she was looking directly at it. A police badge. She swayed and blinked twice. She glanced at Pete, who had sat up and was staring at the door, which had closed behind the departed newcomer.

He jumped up and ran out of the diner, closely followed by Myka.

But Myka wasn't chasing the suspect.

Myka was chasing Pete.

In front of him, Pete could see the person running away. It was a man – a boy – maybe about fifteen or sixteen. And a lot fitter than Pete.

Their suspect turned a corner and disappeared from sight. Pete skidded to a halt and looked around the corner. Nothing and nobody.

He turned around and Myka ran into him, knocking him back onto the ground and landing heavily on top of him. Her fist slammed into his nose, her other fist into his gut. He grabbed her wrists, and moved so that he was on top of her, pinning her to the ground.

She continued to fight him, straining at the restraints his hands were making. He pinned her arms in a surrender position, basically sitting on her so she couldn't kick him, because **boy** could that girl _kick!_

Pete almost jumped in fright when the Farnsworth buzzed. "Can't talk now Artie!" he growled through gritted teeth even though Artie couldn't hear. Myka continued to fight him and his hand hit the Tesla at her belt. Concocting a plan in his head, the Farnsworth continued to buzz irritatingly.

_3… 2… 1… _Pete thought to himself, and leaped back, grabbing the Tesla from Myka's belt as he did so and landing in a crouch. Myka yelled and got up, but Pete was quicker. He pulled the trigger on the Tesla and a blast of electricity shot out. Myka flew back and landed on a heap on the ground. _Thank god I charged the Tesla. _Pete thought to himself, _Myka would've beaten me to a pulp!_

He ran over to her fallen body. She groaned, her eyes fluttering open and then closed again. "Myka?" he whispered softly and she groaned again.

"Ouch," she commented and he chuckled. He helped her to his feet, rescuing the still buzzing Farnsworth.

"What?" he replied and Claudia's face came into view on the screen.

"What happened to Myka?!" Claudia exclaimed, seeing the frazzled, frizzy haired, out of breath Myka and the heavily breathing Pete.

"Long story. Affected by the artefact," Pete explained quickly and Claudia raised her eyebrows. "What is it?"

"Artie wants an update," she informed them.

"Why can't Artie ask for himself?" Pete asked and Claudia chuckled.

"He's gone… somewhere with Leena. They're probably going to be some time," Claudia grinned and Pete laughed.

"What?" Myka asked, wondering why he was laughing.

"Claudia and I have a bet on whether there's a relationship between them," he explained.

"They so do," Claudia nodded, smirking and Myka smiled. "Leena and I have a bet on another couple…"

Her tone was quite mysterious. Myka looked sceptical. "And who would that be?"

"Oh, I'm sure we'll know when they come home. Bye!" Claudia disconnected, and then realized she hadn't actually gotten an update. Oh well. At least she knew Myka had been affected by the artefact. And that there was something going on between Pete and Myka.

They didn't call her a genius for nothing.

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A/N: Go Claudia! If I was a Warehouse character, I'd so totally be Claudia. Although being Myka would be pretty awesome too. But I'm closer in age to Claudia. Yaay! In real life? I wanna be best mates with Allison Scagliotti. We'd be great together. Crazy? Check. Oh yeah :)**_


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